Chapter 1: The Sacrifice

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead. Harsh rays pierced through the low thatched roof, illuminating the cramped, oppressive interior where three narrow wooden beds stood, each scarcely wide enough for a single sleeper. On one of the beds lay a young woman, her face pale with a bluish tinge, completely still.

Suddenly, the woman’s eyes snapped open, confusion clouding her gaze, as though she had no notion of where or when she was.

Sitting up, Zhong Yuxiu pressed a hand to her temples, a faint ache throbbing within. Memories not her own flooded her mind in a torrent.

She had transmigrated again—only to land in the wrong time and place, in the summer of 1976, in the world of Jiuzhou. The true heiress of the Wan family had returned from the dead, repeatedly scheming to strip the imposter of favor and finally sending her off to the countryside as a “sent-down youth.”

This place was, indeed, the rural destination: the Yu Family Production Team in Lu County, province C.

Did rebirth give one the right to act with impunity?

The mix-up at birth was hardly the fault of the original owner. Through a twist of fate, she had simply enjoyed a life meant for another. Taken from her birth parents at infancy—if there was any blame, at whom should it be directed?

She’d tangled with many reborn heroines in her fast-transmigration missions. She still remembered: after the resumption of the college entrance examination in 1977, she’d be able to return to the city and would inevitably cross paths with the true Wan heiress.

“Damn system,” she muttered.

Silence. No response.

“System 0138, are you there?”

Zhong Yuxiu frowned slightly. Lost connection? She was supposed to return to her first life and start over. Not only had she been sent to the wrong place, but now the system was missing too. Looking down, her gaze landed on a black-gold ring.

She had traded for it with someone from a cultivation realm. Picking up the ring, she pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall on it. Instantly, the ring dissolved into a stream of light and merged with her soul.

The storage ring’s space was limited—barely two acres—but inside were piles of gold, silver, jewels, brushes, ink, paper, embroidery, ancient zithers, optical brains, cutting-edge technology, and more. All were treasures she had gathered while traveling through different worlds. There was also a jade slip left by the system.

“Hello, Host. If you’re seeing this, I have already returned to the Administration Bureau. Because your first physical body was cremated, I could only send you here. Your current body is highly compatible with your soul. As compensation for the Bureau’s error, the storage ring is yours. We shall never meet again. Goodbye.”

Irresponsible system, fleeing to avoid entanglement. No sense of duty at all.

Zhong Yuxiu returned the jade slip to the ring, feeling rather desolate. Her first life, as an orphan, left her with nothing to miss except her university diploma. The first time she transmigrated, she’d only wanted to return because she wasn’t accustomed to ancient life. At least in the modern era, she was about to graduate—good days awaited her.

Now... all of that was gone.

So be it. Since she was here, she might as well settle in.

With her headache easing and memories organized, Zhong Yuxiu finally took the time to survey her surroundings. The furnishings could only be described as primitive—there wasn’t even a desk.

“Comrade Zhong, you’re awake!” A round-faced girl, thin and with sun-darkened skin, entered, backlit by the sunlight. This was Sun Ruhong, a native of the capital.

Zhong Yuxiu pulled her lips into a faint smile. “Sister Ruhong.”

“Good, you’re awake. You’d been feverish and delirious for a whole day and night. If you hadn’t woken up soon, we’d have had to send you to the county hospital.” Sun Ruhong, warm-hearted and smiling, stepped forward to press a hand to Zhong Yuxiu’s forehead. “Thank goodness the fever’s gone. Do you still feel dizzy?”

“Please don’t send me. I can’t afford the hospital fees,” Zhong Yuxiu replied with a wry smile.

Sun Ruhong looked her over for a moment, then chuckled. “After being sick, you seem livelier. You’ve only just come to the countryside, but I don’t know why you’ve given up on yourself. But I think people should always look forward. The old saying goes: thirty years on the east bank, thirty years on the west—who knows what the future holds?”

“Sister Ruhong, I won’t wallow in self-pity any longer.” With all the scheming by the true heiress, the Wan family had abandoned the original owner. No one cared, no one loved her. Fresh out of high school, she had become a pawn and lost her life. She owed the Wan family nothing.

“You look well enough now. Why not come outside and help me start the fire? It’s harvest season, everyone’s dead tired. I’m just back to cook for them—at least they’ll have a decent meal when they come home.”

Zhong Yuxiu wanted to learn more about this era—her memories alone weren’t enough.

In the kitchen, she took in the whole room at a glance, then sat on a stool in front of the stove to light the fire. Life here was plain and hard. As people would later say of this era: for travel, you walked; for communication, you shouted; for security, you relied on dogs; for warmth, you shivered.

The hardship was evident in every detail.

“Sister Ruhong, are we using white flour?” In her memory, white flour was a luxury rarely seen in farm households, not even guaranteed in the city.

Sun Ruhong scooped three large bowls into a basin and added water to the big iron pot. “Everyone’s working themselves to death with barely any oil to eat. We have to eat something decent or we’ll collapse.”

“Then I’m lucky to benefit today. I’ll join everyone in the fields this afternoon to help with the harvest.” Grain was precious. As a newcomer, she couldn’t just eat without working. Otherwise, how would she get by in the coming months?

“You’ve just recovered. Don’t push yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. A bit of movement, a good sweat, and a bath tonight—I might be completely better.” Seeing Sun Ruhong pour water into the basin and knead the flour into a dough, Zhong Yuxiu grinned. “Sister Ruhong, are you making dough drop soup?”

Sun Ruhong nodded cheerfully. “Yes, have more broth later and sweat it out.”

“Alright.” Zhong Yuxiu responded readily. Dough drop soup was a treat—she’d be glad for a few extra bites.

Sun Ruhong worked quickly with someone tending the fire. When the soup was ready, she whipped up two cold side dishes from wild greens gathered around the yard.

“All done, Comrade Zhong. Take a break. When the others return, we’ll eat. I see there’s water left in the pot—I’ll take a bath now so I can nap at noon.”

Zhong Yuxiu nodded, watching Sun Ruhong carry a bucket of hot water away. She stared at the embers still glowing in the stove. While no one was around, she tried to mobilize her spiritual energy, only to discover that her once-level-twenty power had fallen to level five.

In her last world, the interstellar age, psychic abilities were all the rage, and she herself was a psychic.

She tried to cultivate her spiritual power, but found it suppressed, as if a great mountain pressed on her mind. It must be the world’s rules.

Her psychic strength was gone, but at least this world was relatively peaceful. That was something.

The original owner had only a high school education, and her graduation certificate had come with her to the countryside.

Zhong Yuxiu left the kitchen and returned to her room. Sun Ruhong was still bathing in the little bathhouse next door; she was alone. From memory, she found the rattan trunk she had brought with her. Opening it, she found several sets of slightly worn clothes and, beside them, her high school textbooks—the real treasures she sought.

The textbooks formed a complete set: Chinese, Mathematics, Political Thought, History, Chemistry, Physics, and so on.

Flipping through them one by one, she finally found a letter at the bottom. The envelope was marked: To Zhong Yuxiu, personally. The original owner had never discovered it.

Now that she was Zhong Yuxiu, she might as well see what was written. It was best to know where things stood—at least the sender had shown some consideration.

Opening the envelope, she unfolded two pages and scanned them quickly. So much for goodwill—the letter was from the eldest son of the Wan family, stating plainly: from this day forth, the original owner had no connection to the Wan family.

Now, with no ties left, she felt a lightness. She was not as foolish as the original owner. They had cast her aside—why cling to them? Wasn’t it better to live freely and at ease?

She folded the letter and slipped it inside a book. Whatever the Wan family thought, it didn’t concern her. As for the Wan and Zhong families, she had no plans of returning to either. The Wan family’s decision to sever ties suited her perfectly.